Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, etc., etc.
I might still be doing a lot of editing and rewriting as I go along. I don't like how I'm getting stuck in Buffy's past with this story, I can't wait to post actual Willow/Xander/Buffy interaction.
Anyway, here goes:
Then Buffy thought back to what happened two years ago, the thing that first caused her to teach herself self-defense. It was not a happy memory…
Joyce was out again, working at the gallery, and probably wouldn’t return till well past midnight. Buffy had come home from school and found a note on the table, telling her to heat some left-over pizza for dinner.
The note was from her dad, who hadn’t been around very much for the past few weeks. Buffy knew that it couldn’t be because of his job, like he claimed, because she had heard him come home several times, singing drunkenly.
That night, she kept herself awake, knowing that she only had a few minutes between her father being in the house and him falling asleep. She had a permission slip for him to sign. She wasn’t going to miss a once-in-two-years chance at going on a field trip, even if it was to some musty, forgotten museum.
The front door opened and there was the unmistakable sound of unsteady footsteps walking to the kitchen. Buffy got out of bed, grabbed a pen and her permission slip, and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. And stared.
Her father was a mess. Not only that, but he had obviously been doing…something. There were red marks lining his face and neck, and as Buffy looked at him, she felt herself getting angry.
This entire week, her mother had ignored her father, as if she refused to believe he would lie about working late nights. Buffy had tentatively approached her once, but had quickly seen that her mother had shut herself down, in full denial-mode.
She wasn’t about to let anything break up the family. She wanted to wait, and watch everything go back to normal, just fix itself. But Buffy knew there was no way she could just back down, like her mother.
Hank looked up at the blurry form of his daughter, and forced himself to focus.
Downing a cup of water, he swallowed and rasped “Hey honey, shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s nearly…”
He squinted at the clock, but gave up as the numbers swam around in front him.
“You shouldn’t be up.” He stated, more forcefully.
Then he realized that Buffy was glaring at him. Getting angry, he stood, thinking, why should she be glaring at him? Couldn’t she see how bad things were? Christ, this girl had always been ungrateful, but now she was looking at him like she wanted to throw him out of the house.
Goddammit some little seventh-grader had no right to act like her father was in the wrong. Hadn’t he worked his ass off just to keep a roof over her head?
Ungrateful. Just like her mother. Joyce had been giving him the cold shoulder for almost a month now. She never confronted him, but it was obvious when she tried to make him think about what he was doing, even trying to make him feel guilty.
It was disgusting. He didn’t deserve this kind of, of disobedience. He was the man of the family here.
Hank glared back at his daughter, replacing any former looks of concern with drunken fury.
“What do you think you’re looking at, girl? What gives you the right? Get to bed!” He yelled at her, and smashed the glass cup he’d been holding against the kitchen counter.
Buffy’s initial reaction had been to step back, realizing just how stupid she’d been to think he would still be thinking clearly enough to even sign something for her. She didn’t expect him to be mad at her though. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I mean, dads are supposed to be ashamed of their children seeing them drunk, right?
But before she could really react properly, she heard the glass smash. Instantly, Buffy forgot any fear she had, and snapped back, angrily, “I’ve got a right to be mad at my lying drunken father, dad!”
At this, Hank yelled in her face, “Don’t you dare..” and punched her.
Buffy staggered; she could feel her lip stinging. Her father was not a large man, and had never really worked out, and she knew that was the only reason she wasn’t on the floor already, knocked out cold.
Hank looked at his daughter. She was obviously still furious at him; there had only been that fleeting expression of shock, and now she was all on the defensive again.
Buffy shot another glare at her dad, wishing he would just fall over now. She couldn’t deal with this. She was quickly shutting down her emotions, because she knew if she really let herself think about what happened, she would probably be in bed sobbing by now.
Hank took a another step forward, threatening, and ordered again “Get to bed, and don’t even think about…”
Before he got any further, Buffy cut in. “Shut up dad. You aren’t thinking. You don’t even deserve to tell me what…”
Hank couldn’t believe she was actually talking back to him. Hadn’t he just made his message clear? She obviously didn’t think he would dare hurt her any more. Well, wasn’t she the daring one.
“You’ll see, you’ll see what happens now, you’re pushing it, you know that? You just about crossed the line there.”
“I thought I was just saying, why don’t you go screw yourself? You aren’t a father to me anymore. You haven’t done anything for us for a month. You think you can just get away with abandoning me, abandoning us like that?” Buffy continued coldly. She felt so much older than she really was. People her age weren’t supposed to have to deal with this kind of stuff, she thought to herself. It’s because mom could never stand up for, well anyone…
Hank was yelling again, trying to overpower her daughter’s calm accusations. “You’re just a little girl, Buffy. You don’t understand anything. And if you think I haven’t done anything for this family, well look at yourself! Maybe if we actually had a normal, happy daughter your mother wouldn’t be so depressed all the time. Ever think about your role in the family?”
Hank grabbed an empty beer bottle that he had left on the counter next to him. “All you’ve ever done is what you’re doing now! That’s right, your mom agrees with me, maybe you should ask her! If we had a choice, you’d be on the streets right now, you ungrateful –“
He threw the bottle, and it smashed against the wall, right next to Buffy’s head, leaving a few scratches on her face.
Buffy was having trouble controlling herself. She didn’t know if she wanted to run away terrified and crying, or justify the situation, and continue arguing. She needed to get out all of the resentment she had had towards her parents for an entire month.
Hank didn’t know what Buffy was thinking, but all he could think was that there was a sour taste in his mouth, and he was starting to feel very, very sick. He shoved Buffy aside and ran to the bathroom, gagging into the toilet.
Buffy’s head hit the edge of the wall as her dad rushed by her. Stunned, she fell to the floor, trying to fight off her sudden dizziness.
Hank was in an even worse mood as he rinsed out his mouth. All of the self-pity and feelings of betrayal that had been building up over the past few weeks were threatening to burst out of him. He desperately needed an outlet, he couldn’t hold in his anger much more. His shouting match just now had only added to his stress.
He saw Buffy slowly getting up off the floor, and he felt like his head cleared a little.
This is all her fault. I’ll make her pay.
Buffy screamed when her dad suddenly pulled her up and slammed her into the wall again. She tried to push him away, but suddenly he started punching every inch of her, screaming at her.
The next morning she had woken up in her bed, screaming in pain from a pounding headache and dozens of bruises. She knew her mother would have left the house already, and her dad was most likely asleep.
Buffy lay in bed willing the pain to go away, at the same time trying to block out what happened last night. One thing at a time. She was already starting to feel overwhelmed. Despite her best efforts, bits and pieces of last night’s scene flooded back into her mind, and she felt herself break up, and started sobbing into her pillow until darkness took her again.
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